In a Summer at 'Jesus Camp,' There's No Time To Be A Child

It came to me as I proudly read about the American winners of Nobel prizes in science. The children of "Jesus Camp " the documentary on a summer camp for Christian evangelicals will never have to worry about writing a Nobel acceptance speech.

In a home-school teaching session captured by the camera, a mom tells her son that science doesn't prove anything. Global warming is a myth. Evolution well, you know. She offers videos and textbooks to back up her theological view of the world.

At the "Kids on Fire" camp in Devil's Lake, N.D., a young boy admits to questioning the existence of a God he can't see, doubts any curious child might have. His questions are met with certainty not explanations. He eventually repents, tearfully. I still can't figure out what he did wrong.

I respect the beliefs of the adults and children of "Jesus Camp ," though I know from their words that they would not return the favor. But I found myself squirming at the images of children shaking and trembling and speaking in tongues, on cue.

What happened to the wonder and fun of childhood?

Do the young warriors for Jesus understand why, as it's shouted at them, the warlock Harry Potter would be killed in Biblical times?

Do concepts of sin and shame mean anything to a 5-year-old?

Do they know what they have to be so guilty about?

A lot of the children just look agitated.

One girl who hands out Bible tracts to strangers in a bowling alley (when she isn't praying for a strike) is one big twitch. She judges that God prefers churches like hers, where people jump around and shout, not quieter "dead" churches.

I'm scared of and for this girl most likely to develop stigmata. She has already closed herself off to anyone who might have a different point of view.

And she's only 9.

Youth minister Becky Fischer single-mindedly trains her charges, using props and toys to preach lessons about what it means to be a good Christian. The mixing of politics and religion only bothered me a little: the mouths taped shut to silently protest abortion, the raucous call-and-response for righteous judges.

Even the appearance by President Bush, at least his cardboard stand-in, seems more silly than serious.

Then a counselor warns campers off bedtime ghost stories, and giggling children turn silent. They don't look or sound like children any more.

Their God is a stern one, a deity to fear more than love.

His love is limited to the chosen ones because, as a 12-year-old preacher in training says, there's something not quite right about the non-Christians he meets.

Gradually, the children's world is being closed off, to science, non-Christians, even the idea of a democratic pluralistic America.

I have to believe that the adults leading the way trust they are doing the right thing.

But when I think that these young people are the future of America, well, all I want to do is pray.

(Mary C. Curtis: mcurtis@charlotteobserver.com.)

(Contact Mary C. Curtis: mcurtis@charlotteobserver.com.)

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